Intimacies

by Katie Kitamura

But fluency was merely the foundation for any kind of interpretive work, which demanded extreme precision, and I often thought that it was my natural inclination toward the latter, rather than any linguistic aptitude, that made me a good interpreter.

working at the Court I learned that its vocabulary was both specific and arcane, with official terminology that was set in each language, and then closely followed by all the interpreters on the team. This was done for obvious reasons, there were great chasms beneath words, between two or sometimes more languages, that could open up without warning.

sliver of unreliability introducing fractures into the testimony of the witness, those fractures would develop into cracks, which would in turn threaten the witness’s entire persona. Every person who took to the stand was projecting an image of one kind or another: their testimony was heavily coached and shaped by either the defense or the prosecution, they had been brought to the Court in order to perform

The first time I attended a session I had been startled, both the prosecution and the defense had been unmeasured in pleading their cases.

And then the accused themselves were often grandiose in character, both imperious and self-pitying, they were politicians and generals, people used to occupying a large stage and hearing the sound of their own voices.

If a joke was made it was the interpreter’s job to communicate the humor or attempt at humor; similarly, when something was said ironically it was important to indicate that the words were not to be taken at face value.

Perhaps that was the real anxiety within the Court, and among the interpreters. The fact that our daily activity hinged on the repeated description—description, elaboration, and delineation—of matters that were, outside, generally subject to euphemism and elision.

I understood well enough that Adriaan was not speaking to me but to Kees, that I was only the medium through which his statements were passing, and similarly I understood that my presence must have been what allowed Adriaan to speak so directly to Kees, it was as if he were saying things he had wished to say for many years but had been unable to, perhaps restrained by the basic courtesies of marriage, his respect for the long-standing friendship between his wife and this man.

That was, I thought, the prospect offered by a new relationship, the opportunity to be someone other than yourself.

I always hated the cameras, I thought it was the sign of a surveillance state. But now I find they make me feel a little bit safer, I suppose this is how people become conservative. She sounded a little calmer than before. Being a property owner changes your perception of things whether you like it or not. Even the smallest apartment is enough to do the job, it’s difficult not to be contaminated by it, there’s a difference between living in theory and living in

Every certainty can give way without notice. No one and nothing was exempt from this rule, not even Adriaan.

There are prisons and far worse all around us, in New York there was a black site above a bustling food court, the windows darkened and the rooms soundproofed so that the screaming never reached the people sitting below. People eating their sandwiches and sipping their cappuccinos, who had no idea of what was taking place directly above them, no idea of the world in which they were living.

In fact Kees would have a far greater understanding of my daily life; if at that party I had happened to say that I worked at the Court, it was possible that we would have had an entirely different conversation, that he would have then seemed to me an intelligent and informed man, who knew a great deal about a world I was only just entering. I might then have been more open to his advances, I might have taken his number or even gone home with him that night, rather than Adriaan.

The thought was disquieting—that our identities should be so mutable, and therefore the course of our lives.

That layering—in effect a kind of temporal blurring, or simultaneity—was perhaps ultimately what distinguished painting from photography. I wondered if that was the reason why contemporary painting seemed to me so much flatter, to lack the mysterious depth of these works, because so many painters now worked from photographs.

As I looked down at the witness, it prickled through me, the strangeness of speaking her words for her, the wrongness of using this I that was hers and not mine, this word that was not sufficiently capacious.

They no longer seemed like the well-adjusted individuals I had met upon my arrival, instead they were marked by alarming fissures, levels of dissociation that I did not think could be sustainable.

And although there were things I had intended to say to him, words that had passed through my head many times, words that I had believed needed to be spoken between us, I said only this: I understand. I could understand anything, under the right circumstances and for the right person. It was both a strength and a weakness.

I went to the dunes the other day, I said. They’re beside the Court, and yet I had never walked on them. I had never gone down to the water. It was hard to believe this place had existed all this time. That this open expanse of sea had been just outside my field of vision. I looked down, I didn’t know exactly how to proceed, the words seemed to say so little. Then I learned that I’d been there before, that I’d spent time here in The Hague with my family as a child.